


And Other Words For Love

by DynamicDuo (XylB)



Category: DCU (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, and canon, blatant bastardisation of ancient greek, brief injury + hospital scene, there's really nothing tagworthy in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/DynamicDuo
Summary: Garth's life, so far, has been a tug-of-war between Atlantis and the surface. Between his adoptive birthright and the Titans, between princedom and the complicated feelings he holds for Roy.But ropes fray, and people change, and the treasure of the watery depths loses its lustre in the face of sunshine.(a.k.a, a loosely formatted 5+1 fic with the six ancient Greek words for love)
Relationships: Garth/Roy Harper
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	And Other Words For Love

**Author's Note:**

> I have complete disregard for canon.

**1\. Xenia**

"Hey Garth, I'm doing the chore wheel, can you cook?" 

"Human food or?" Garth asks, glancing up from his phone to peer at Wally at the table with a teasing grin. 

"No, Martian food," Wally deadpans. "Yes, human food." 

"Not much," Garth admits. "I can do basic dishes and follow a recipe." 

"I'll put you in for one night of the week," Wally says. The whiteboard marker squeaks as he writes. 

"I can cook Atlantean food just fine," Garth adds. "I've never had any complaints." 

"What do Atlanteans even _eat_?" Wally asks. Then, under his breath, "oh, definitely not Donna's on dishes, fucking super strength..." 

"Seafood, mostly." Garth idly scrolls his phone. "What's best for speedsters?" 

"I mean, I'll eat anything," Wally replies. "But protein and carbs are really the best stuff for us." He pauses. "Would humans like Atlantean food?" 

"I doubt it. We can eat a lot of stuff raw that you can't." 

"...how?" 

"Apex predators, Wally, apex predators." Garth snorts at his disbelieving noise. "We can't exactly _cook_ underwater." 

"No, I know, I just - didn't think about it, I guess." 

The oven door creaks open in the kitchen, and the smell of warm food permeates through to the adjacent living area. 

"Oh, that smells _good_ , Roy!" Wally calls. 

"Seconded," Garth adds. 

"What can I say, I'm a master of my craft," Roy replies from the kitchen, and soon enough, the sound of plates and cutlery clatters through the space. 

"Garth, I've put you down for laundry and Friday night dishes," Wally says. "That sound good?" 

Garth holds a thumbs up above his head. Wally makes a noise of acknowledgment and hooks the chore wheel back on the precarious nail in the wall. 

Roy emerges from the kitchen a couple minutes later, three plates balanced carefully between his hands. He sets down two on the table, for him and Wally. Garth hasn't been up from Atlantis in a few months, so it's always startling to see the changes in his friends the first night every time he comes up for air. Roy's hair is longer, now, long enough to tuck behind his ears, which Garth secretly loves, and he's tanned a shade deeper. It looks good on him. 

Garth hopes he's being discreet with his glances, but it's hard to gauge what's discreet and what's _not_ when Roy _smiles_ at him like that, sunny and genuine and completely distracting. His inside tie into Gordian knots at that smile, and Roy might as well damn know it, from how often he employs it. 

"Roy, wow, this looks _delicious_ ," Wally exclaims. 

"Uh-huh, you're lucky, I only cook for my favourites," Roy says, and places a plate on Garth's lap where he's laying on the sofa. He pauses and ruffles a hand through Garth's hair. Garth leans into the touch half-involuntarily. He usually has it much shorter, but there's no haircutting opportunities in Atlantis. 

"Hey, you let it grow out," Roy notes. His hand lingers on Garth's head for a beat, then withdraws. 

"No barbers in Atlantis," Garth replies, tipping his head back over the arm of the sofa to grin up at Roy, who smiles in return. 

"I like it," Roy says, "it suits you." 

Garth decides to keep his hair long. 

* * *

**2\. Philia**

It was Donna that had introduced them to the more in-depth facts about ancient Greece, picked up from her time in Themiscyra, from Diana, from any textbook or website she could scour to find out more about her mythological origins. 

"Did you know," Donna says, "there's six words for love in ancient Greek?" She pushes off of the table with her foot so far her chair wobbles on its two back legs, but doesn't fall. Wally looks up from his noodles with a curious glance. Dick whispers "B-9" and hits one of Garth's ships - he frowns and stabs a red stake into his destroyer. 

"That sounds familiar," Roy says from his recline on the sofa, a book held above his face. "I think I learnt that in school." 

"I remember agape," Lilith comments, and snags one of Wally's noodles for herself. He sighs. Donna lights up at the response. 

"Yeah, that's like, unconditional love!" She flips a page in the book and runs a finger over some text. "Okay now this book isn't the best source but it says agape is charity, or "God" love." 

"Sounds pretty heavy," Garth says. "But interesting if you believe in it, I guess." 

"It's like, you'd always put the other before yourself," Donna explains. "Just _really_ unconditional." 

"Sounds neat," Wally says, and they all murmur in agreement. 

"H-3," Garth guesses. Dick smirks a "Nope!" and triumphantly places a white stake. "A-5?" 

"Nada." White stake. 

"Philia is...loyalty?" Donna frowns at her book and skims the page. "Oh yeah, okay, it's - " 

"Family?" Lilith guesses. "Like _filial_?" 

"Yeah! This says brotherly love but it can also apply to a community." 

"Man, the Greeks had it going _on_ ," Roy remarks. "What else is there?" 

"St...orge?" Donna tilts her head. "I think I'm pronouncing that right. Anyway, yeah, _this_ one's family." 

"Different from philia?" Wally asks, spinning noodles on his chopsticks. 

"F-10," Dick says. Garth just silently shows him a white stake. 

"I-1." 

"Hit," Dick sighs. 

Garth struggles to suppress laughter. "Which ship?" 

Dick _does_ laugh, albeit quietly, and shakes his head. "Nice try, but I'm not giving it up that easy." 

"Storge is only used for family," Donna says. "Apparently it doesn't show up much in ancient texts. Then there's philautia." 

"How do you use any of these words in a sentence?" Wally asks. Donna shrugs. 

"No clue. But philautia is self-love, so - " 

"- so you probably never need a sentence to tell someone about _that_ ," Dick mutters. Lilith thwaps him on the back of the head. "Hey, ow!" 

"It's taking care of your _own_ happiness," Donna continues. "There's a positive and a negative meaning, which I guess is the balance of happiness and selfishness? This book isn't clear on it." 

"Dick's right, Wally definitely doesn't need to tell us about that in a _sentence_ ," Roy teases. Wally shoots him a glare behind a giggling Donna's back. 

"All right, what's the next one," Lilith says loudly, breaking up Wally and Roy's little staring contest. 

"Well, there's eros, which is - y'know," Donna says, and cracks up into laughter with Lilith when Garth, Dick, Wally, and Roy whoop. 

"And then xenia, which is hospitality." Donna flips the page and shrugs. "Pretty straightforward." 

"So the fact that we can define all of them with English words doesn't render them basically useless?" Roy asks, a teasing grin on his face. Donna tosses the book behind her shoulder and Roy curls up to dodge it. 

"Ancient Greek uses less words to make the distinction, though," Lilith replies. 

"I-4?" Garth tries. 

"You sunk the battleship," Dick says, and plucks it from the board to show Garth. "My best men were on that ship. D-6?" 

"Oh, fuck you." Red stake. 

"Okay now _that's_ eros," Roy says, interrupting whatever playful argument he and Donna were having. Dick calmly flips him off while Garth shakes with laughter. 

"And if they told me to go fuck myself, that'd be philautia," Roy adds, only for Lilith to put her head in her hands. Wally snorts into his palm. 

"Go rummage up some _philautia_ , then," Dick says, winking at Garth. "Just do it somewhere none of us can hear." 

"Okay, fuck _you_ , Grayson - " 

* * *

**3\. Agape**

The sand is rough against his back, but a welcome change from the stinging salt of the ocean, of the directionless currents tugging at him every which way. The sun blazes down hot on him, not a cloud in sight to spare him as he desperately tries to catch his breath, shuffles up enough to get his upper half out of the water and gives up when it hurts too much. 

He lets the trident fall to the side, lets the waves lap over it, over him, and out of the corner of his eye he can see them come away tinged red with blood. His blood. 

Garth groans and presses a hand to his side. He needs to stop getting into fights with the Trench - and this time wasn't even his _fault_. But if he magicks a tide to take himself to Atlantis, there will only be questions, and disapproval, and Arthur frowning down at him and Mera with that sadly familiar crease of stress between her eyebrows and he'd tell them the truth but he's been toeing the line for far too long and he knows it. It would be a swift and surefire way to get himself tethered to Atlantis for good. 

So he'd crawled to land. He's not quite sure where he is, but he's hoping it's a populated beach, hoping that someone will see him bleeding out and call for help. 

"Is that - holy shit, _Garth_!" 

Footsteps slapping against sand, getting closer. Garth blinks up at the sky and tries to turn his head but it hurts, it hurts so _much_ , and he can't breathe right. 

"Garth, hey, hey, I got you - " The person collapses by his side onto their knees, a blur of khaki and white and - and _Roy_ , it's Roy, and Garth must have washed up a lot closer to home than he realised. 

"Jesus Christ, you - are you - fuck." Roy's face swims above him, which is unusual because Garth's not underwater. He hears the swish of a phone text. 

"Garth. Garth, stay with me, I think I need to - Garth, _Garth_ , relax - " hands on his shoulders hands on his chest throat too tight he can't breathe he can't breathe he can't _think_ \- 

"Fuck, I don't know how to do this, don't you have like four lungs or something," Roy mutters, and Garth doesn't have the air to correct him before his nose is pinched shut and damp warmth presses against his mouth. CPR, he knows, in the back of his water-addled mind, but it feels like the inverse of aeroplane air pressure, a swelled puff against his throat, choking, _gagging_ \- 

Roy lets up and laces his fingers over Garth's chest to pump down, once, twice, and Garth's injuries _scream_ s and his throat closes up and everything feels waterlogged and foggy and he can't summon anything up to help him or help Roy - 

The warmth again, and the pressure on the back of his throat, and Garth gags without meaning to, gags and chokes and then coughs - coughs, and water splatters up onto Roy's mouth and cheeks and nose, drips back down onto Garth's forehead. His worldview shifts as Roy rolls him onto his side and Garth coughs again, his throat burning from the salt and from the sea. He coughs and gags until he retches up the rest of the water bogging down his lungs, until there's nothing more than a dribble down his cheek. It hurts to breathe, but at least he _can_ breathe, now. 

He refocuses his eyes, and finds the sand tinged red underneath him. Pink with the foam, and he clutches automatically at his side, pulsing and pulsing and bedraggled with pain, his armour torn clean through by a wicked claw, and Roy's there, too, pressing something over Garth's fingers, over the gash in his side, ugly, bubbling crimson dripping down his wrists and into the sand. 

"Garth, stay with me," Roy says, but he sounds far away. Garth blinks against the pink foam and the red sand and the blurry sky and Roy presses harder against his wound - fabric, he thinks belatedly, tries to focus on that, on where it might be from - a jacket, a shirt, what was Roy wearing again - 

Garth blinks and doesn't wake up the second time around. 

\-- 

Something's beeping. Something irritatingly steady. Garth furrows his brow in irritation, then grunts, as if that'll dispel whatever the noise is. Almost immediately, something shuffles beside him. He groans again, through gritted teeth, and his throat feels like it's on _fire_. 

"Hey, it's okay," someone says, and a hand lands on his. Garth cracks a reluctant eye open to find himself in a startling white room. Stainless steel equipment. Pastel blue bedsheets pulled up to his waist. Something soft and comfortable draped over his front. 

"You're in the League medbay," Roy says, and seeing his face suddenly reminds Garth of pink foam and red sand and - 

Garth automatically grasps his side, but Roy halts him with a hand on his wrist. Garth frowns. Roy gestures to the IV plunged into his arm and Garth forces himself to relax. His side twinges faintly, but mostly just itches. 

"You were bleeding out real bad," Roy continues, soft, gentle. "But they stitched you up. You should be fine." 

Garth rubs his face with his other hand and sighs. "Please don't tell me you told Arthur," he says - whispers, when his voice cracks from how dry his throat is. 

"I - don't know," Roy replies. "I haven't, but if the League - " 

"Fuck," Garth mutters, and closes his eyes again. 

"I can go and ask," Roy offers, but Garth flips his hand to hold onto Roy's wrist before he can withdraw it. 

"No," he murmurs, then swallows. "Just - stay." 

"Okay." Something scrapes to Garth's left, and then there's cool glass pressing to his lips. He drinks obediently. 

"You - found me," Garth says when the glass disappears. It settles back onto the table with a quiet _thunk_. 

"Yeah," Roy agrees, and Garth opens his eyes just to see the friendly smile on his face. "I was a regular ol' Ariel."

Garth huffs out the best laugh he can manage, and Roy chuckles with him. 

"I'll make sure to watch out for Ursula at our wedding," Garth mutters. His chest twinges with Roy's next laugh, but not from pain. 

"So you _have_ seen the Little Mermaid," Roy teases. "I knew you were lying." 

"Mm." Garth strokes a thumb over Roy's palm. It feels less forbidden, now, to let his careful façade slip, to let himself touch Roy as he wants to, and maybe it's the residual throb of pain or the medication he's surely on, but he thinks Roy squeezes back. 

An abrupt flash of light disturbs him. Roy's hand slips away before he can register to pull him back, but that train of thought stops dead when he sees who's in the doorway. 

"Garth! I'm glad to see you're okay," Arthur says, striding over to stand by his bedside. He looks concerned, kindly, but Garth still feels a little overwhelmed by his presence. On instinct, he touches a fist to his chest and bows his head. 

"No need for that," Arthur reminds him, as he always does when they're not in professional surroundings, and sets his ever-present trident against the wall. "What happened?" 

Garth glances past him at a lost-looking Roy. He already misses the physical contact, but he's not quite brave enough to have _that_ conversation with Arthur yet, no matter how much he knows Arthur wouldn't ask questions. There's just too much riding on it - too many Atlantean expectations, too many Earth expectations, too many choices to make and not enough time and he hates the responsibility, sometimes. Hates being Tempest, hates being an outlier, hates being anything but a normal guy with no powers who could, maybe, have a chance with - 

Roy clears his throat. "I'll, uh, I'll leave you two to it," he says, and nods politely at both of them before quietly leaving the room. Garth watches the door shut behind him. 

A hand lands on his knee over the blankets, drawing his attention back to the king of the seas sitting delicately on his bed. 

"It was Trench," Garth admits. "I got ambushed." 

Arthur's face pulls into an automatic frown, then carefully smooths over with concern. "An ambush?" 

"It wasn't targeted," Garth adds, before Arthur can start theorising about coups and mutinies. "I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." 

"Why?" 

Garth blinks. "Why what?" 

"Why were you going near their territory?" Arthur does frown, now, a chilling marker on his otherwise stoic countenance. "It's leagues away from Atlantis." 

"I was on my way to the Tower." Something tickles Garth's throat and he coughs - then _keeps_ coughing, and he turns away from Arthur to try and catch his breath through his bruised throat. Arthur doesn't reply for a long moment. 

"You rest up," he says, instead of an answer. "When you're healed, I'll expect to meet with you in Atlantis." And _there's_ the real answer. Atlantis meeting. Arthur could meet anywhere he wants, anytime he wants, but he wants _Atlantis_. Which means Mera will be there, and the court, and the advisors, and everyone that wants to tether Garth underwater. 

"Yes, my lord," he mutters, and tries to suppress the bitterness behind the words. 

Arthur doesn't seem to notice either way, simply stands up with a satisfied smile, wishes him well, and strides out of the room. 

The heart monitor still beeps steadily beside him. 

* * *

**4\. Eros**

The gym's always been a perilous place for Garth. He doesn't come down here often, not since Atlantean puberty hormones kicked in. But he needs to train _somewhere_ , and there's not exactly any land gyms in Atlantis, so the next best option is the Titans Tower secure basement gym. It's usually empty in the afternoons, with everyone busy with missions or work or college, but just to prove him wrong, it's not empty today. 

No, because Roy's down here, too, bench pressing with a lighter set to fix his form, and Garth's palms sweat so much he has to tear them from the grips to wipe them on his shorts between sets. 

Atlantis might have funny rules about marriage and sex and alliances, but they've thankfully never held the same biases humans do when it comes to gender. And Garth is _technically_ supposed to wait until marriage for anything intimate, but even Arthur doesn't want to uphold that tradition. 

So of course Garth notices Roy - he's _been_ noticing Roy since they turned eighteen, since he started working full-time on the Titans, bulking up and building stamina and - _yeah_ , Garth badly wants to know what Roy looks like under his workout clothes. They're not much - a tank top and shorts - but Garth watches him long enough and he starts wanting to tear it off with his teeth. Which probably isn't what Arthur wants to hear if Garth ever tells him he wants to do away with tradition, but. He does. 

He forcibly relaxes his jaw when it starts to ache from how tightly he's been clenching it. The edges of the pads dig into his thighs, a line of red imprinted into his skin, and only digs in harder when he presses them together. The resistance is high enough to challenge him, and he can't quite get his legs fully together this time, which apparently he doesn't even have to worry about because when he looks up again five minutes later, Roy's sitting up on the bench. And watching him. 

"Y'know, I always thought you got your exercise from swimming," Roy says, casually capping his water bottle. Garth lets the resistance push his legs apart and leans back in the seat to rest. 

"This helps," he replies. "Passes the time." 

Roy snorts. "Now there's something I never thought I'd hear. Garth needing to _pass time_." 

"I can get bored, too," Garth jokes, flashing Roy a teasing smile. 

"But you can go _underwater_." Roy gestures to an invisible ocean beyond the walls. "That's so _cool_." 

Garth glances at the wall and then back to Roy, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. 

"I like it up here," he says. _With you_ , he doesn't say. Roy grins like he heard it anyway. 

"Then we should definitely do this more often," he says, wiggling a finger between them. "I'd like a workout buddy." 

Oh god, a workout buddy. Garth's not going to survive seeing Roy this closed to naked for an extended amount of time. Never mind being flushed and sweaty and - 

"Yeah, sure," he agrees, and watches Roy's arms flex as he sets his bottle down on the floor again. 

"Hey, maybe we could spar sometime," Roy adds, glancing up at him. "I haven't had a reliable partner since Dick." 

Garth's mouth goes dry just at the _thought_ of being pressed up against Roy like that. 

"If you can keep up," he says instead of anything rational, and he's abruptly glad that his shirt is a size too big for him and bunches up at his hips, because the wicked grin Roy flashes him makes Garth want to tear his clothes off all over again. 

"Oh, I can keep up, fishboy," he promises, and reaches for the stack of weights by the bench. "Tell you what, let me even this up and we can see who lasts the longest?" 

Garth releases the grips and carefully extricates his legs from the footrests. "You're _on_ , Sherwood." 

\-- 

"Hey, you've gotten better at this," Roy says, his cheek pressed to the wall, struggling against Garth's hold. 

"Dick taught me a couple moves," Garth murmurs against his ear, and kicks Roy's legs open to demonstrate. "He's good at disarming." 

"Too bad he didn't teach you how to block the offence," Roy says, and rips a shoulder back before Garth can think to stop him, sending them both stumbling backwards. 

It evens up the fight again. Roy twists to lunge at him but Garth blocks it easily, sweeps his leg underneath Roy's to catch his ankles, but Roy's nimble when he wants to be, and has clearly picked up some flipping tricks from Dick, because a foot goes _sailing_ past Garth's head. He tosses a hand up to stop it in mid-air and pushes Roy off-balance, follows it up with a feint and a punch to Roy's shoulder solely because they agreed not to hit in the face, or anywhere vital, on account of Garth's _stupid magic powers_ , as Roy had put it. Which Garth can agree with, so he deliberately avoids using any powered advantages. 

Roy's _definitely_ been training with Donna as well - he pulls her two-hit move on Garth, which he fails to dodge, and then mirrors her circling method to draw in closer. _That_ he does break, with a quick uppercut and a feint, and now's the time when he'd summon up a nice cold splash for his opponent, but he tackles Roy instead. It takes him completely off guard, and all his breath _whooshes_ out of him when they land bodily on the mat, tussling for the upper hand. Roy rolls them, Garth rolls them back, and there's a tense struggle before Garth manages to hook his fingers around Roy's wrists and pin them above his head, then sinks his full weight onto Roy's hips so he can't buck up. 

"Tap out," Garth says, and Roy glares at him. He struggles against the hold with a grunt, but Garth's grip is firm and he weighs more than enough to deter a fight. Denser muscles are probably an unfair advantage, but he can't do anything about it. 

Garth shifts, and Roy takes the opportunity to wiggle a wrist free and shove at Garth's shoulder - Garth laughs and slams his wrist back down. The move makes him lean down as well, and it's only when Roy sucks in a breath that Garth realises how close their faces are. Where his hips are. 

Roy's tongue pushes out to wet his lower lip. Garth, helpless, drops his gaze to follow the movement. His hair falls down to tickle at Roy's forehead, Roy's breath puffs against his cheek, and he wonders if Roy can tell that his heart is pounding from more than just the exercise. 

As Garth watches, rapt, Roy sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and drags them over it slow. Seductive, Garth would dare to say, if he wasn't scared of what that might mean. 

With effort, he tears his gaze away and meets Roy's eyes again, the attractive swoop of his lashes, the sea-glass green of his irises, the residual flush still painted his cheeks pink. This close, Garth can count each strand of hair laying over Roy's forehead. 

Roy's eyes flick down and back up. If Garth just leaned down and tilted his head, closed his eyes - 

A small noise from Roy stop his thoughts in their tracks. Garth doesn't realise he's actually tilted his head until he has to straighten it again, and his cheeks _burn_ at the realisation, the embarrassment - 

Then he registers how stiff Roy has gone underneath him. His eyes are still curiously wide, and he glances down to Garth's mouth again, and he sucks in a shaky breath, but his cheeks are flushed anew. Garth pushes himself up an inch to give Roy some space, but the movement forces his weight to settle more on his knees and Roy's - _oh_. 

Garth quickly shifts forward again. Roy screws his eyes shut and mutters something Garth can't hear. 

"You still haven't tapped out," Garth murmurs. "It's on you." 

Roy's eyes flutter open to look up at him. By the way his breath catches, he understands Garth's offer. And he looks like he wants to accept, and screw Atlantean tradition, Garth'll ruin it all right now if Roy says yes. 

A tense, heated moment later, Roy turns his head to the side and taps against Garth's knuckle twice. Garth releases him instantly, pushes up and off to stand up and offer a hand to Roy, who takes it easily. Garth politely doesn't look down, and prays to any god out there that Roy does the same for him. 

"All right, good hustle," Roy says. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go shower." 

Garth doesn't know what to say as Roy turns to leave, but he knows he doesn't want to leave it awkward between them. Fuck. 

"Roy," he blurts out, before he can think of anything to follow that up with. Roy looks at him over his shoulder, all handsome smile and messy hair, and Garth resists the urge to cross the distance between them and ask Roy the question burning on the tip of his tongue. 

Instead, all he says is: "Same time next week?" Pushes on a grin, just to ease the tension. "Wouldn't want you to get rusty." 

Roy laughs, bright and brilliant and better than any siren's song. 

"'Course," he agrees. "I'm not planning on letting you slack off anytime soon." 

* * *

**5\. Storge**

Roy has a kid now. 

Roy has a kid now, and it had happened somewhere between the Atlantean court rulings and the annual Atlantean treaty compromises and Garth knows he spends too much time on land and too much time underwater and there's never enough time and he always misses something important somewhere or somewhen and it's so hard to settle when he keeps _missing_ things. Like Roy. 

Roy, who has a kid now. 

Everyone turns to Garth, standing dumbstruck in the doorway, still dripping wet, staring mutely at the little gathering in the tower because he hadn't expected to stumble back and see a toddler in the tower. 

"Garth!" It's Donna, coming over to sling an arm around him. "You're back!" 

"I'm back," he says, gives her a smile and squeezes her in return. The rest come over to greet him, too, with a lot more hugs now that they're older, wiser, less awkward about their boundaries. Roy doesn't, but only because he's holding the little girl in his arms. He drifts over as well. 

"Hey," Roy says, and smiles in that way that makes Garth's insides twist up. He looks different now, softer around the edges. He's not carrying any weapons on him. The other Titans retreat back to their circle by the table just a few feet away. 

"Are you Garf?" The kid asks, turning wide eyes on him. Roy laughs quietly. 

"Yes, this is Uncle Garth," he says, gently bouncing her on his arm. She's missing her two front teeth. 

"Garf, this is Lian." 

"Lian," Garth repeats, and smiles at her. "That's a pretty name." 

Lian smiles back, wide and toothy. She points up at Garth's head. 

"You've got the same hair as me!" She declares, and yeah, that's - that's something Garth noticed, and a question he slants to Roy with a glance. 

"Not nearly as long as yours, though," he replies, and ruffles her hair. He doesn't know how to speak to kids, really. He's never had to learn. 

Something crashes on the table, and they both glance over to see Wally blinking down at a shattered plate. There's shards on Donna's shirt. Dick and Lilith step carefully away from the mess. Lian watches, too, seemingly enthralled by Wally as he speed cleans, apologising too fast for anyone to make out but Donna laughs and helps him anyway. 

While Lian's distracted, Garth looks at Roy over her head. 

"So," he says, and gestures to Lian with his eyes. "How old is she?" 

"Five." _Five_. Garth doesn't need magic to subtract five from twenty-three. 

"Who?" Garth asks quietly. Roy sighs. 

"Cheshire." He sighs again and continues before Garth can speak. "I know, I know, but I'll tell you later, okay?" 

Garth nods, then, "You don't have to." 

Roy shrugs one shoulder. Lian giggles at something the Titans do. 

"I know," he says. "But it's - complicated." 

Garth just nods silently again. Roy clears his throat to dismiss the conversation and raises his voice to a normal volume once more. 

"So obviously, I can't - work like I used to," he says, eyes fixed on Garth. "I'm still gonna be a Titan, but I'm gonna change my hours to a more...normal routine." He glances at the Titans. "I'll be daytime only. Nine to five." 

"Okay," Garth says. He'll miss having Roy on missions, but - but Garth's not around enough anyway. Not for the Titans, not for land, and not for Roy. Not in the way he wants to be. 

"But right now, I'm on paternity leave," Roy adds, grinning at Garth. "Gotta get this one all set up with school." He bounces Lian again and kisses her head. Garth's insides do that weird, fluttery thing that he never managed to shake. 

"Although you better still visit," Roy says, raising his eyebrows at Garth. "Just because I'm not at work doesn't mean I don't wanna see you." 

Garth laughs softly. Roy's smile turns dangerously fond. Not for the first time, Garth wants to find out what that smile feels like against his own, wants to know if Roy could keep it dormant long enough to kiss or if he'd break into giggling halfway through. 

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Harper," he teases. 

"Good." Roy nods to Lian. "By the way, I think she's going through a mermaid phase right now." 

"I'm not a - " 

"I wanna be a mermaid!" Lian exclaims, wiggling in Roy's arms. Roy grins mischievously. 

"Well, then it's a good thing Uncle Garth is a real life _merman_ ," he says, winking at Garth. "He can show you lots of water magic - stuff." 

"Can you really?" Lian asks excitedly, giggling with Roy. Garth sighs fondly. 

"Yeah, I can," he says, and pats her on the head. "How about tomorrow?" 

"Yay!" 

\-- 

After the Titans disperse, after Roy puts Lian to bed, Garth finds himself in Roy's room, leaning carefully against the wall while Roy perches on the windowsill. A cool breeze flutters through the half-open window, stirring the mesh curtains and Roy's sweats. 

"I like her," Garth says, as a way to start the conversation. Roy huffs a laugh. 

"Yeah, she's a good kid," he says, a fond smile growing on his face. "I love her." 

Garth hums noncommittally. Truth is, Lian's already carved her sentimental spot in the Titans. It's obvious, written in the ways they interact with her, from Dick with her Legos to Lilith watching cartoon reruns on the floor with Lian in her lap. Even Garth's found himself endeared to the kid, and he's only known her for a few hours. Some of which she spent climbing up his arms and over his head, with a secret little magic boost from him so she was truly incapable of falling off. 

It's a good family to grow up with, Garth thinks. She's already got the loving family unit just from the Titans, and she already has the best dad in the universe. That, Garth has no doubts about. Even just from this afternoon, he knows Roy would go to the ends of the earth for her, would do everything he can to make sure she grows up right. 

"So, Cheshire," Garth says gently, because Roy's been chewing on his lip for the past minute, a bad habit he only does when he clearly wants to get something off his chest. 

"Cheshire," Roy agrees. And sighs. "We - I - after Donna, we were - _involved_." 

Garth nods. He remembers. 

"It didn't last long," Roy continues. "And I thought she'd fucked off, but then a couple weeks ago, she showed up in Star and just - dumped Lian on me." He looks despondent in the hazy moonlight. Haunted. Neither had bothered to turn on the light when they entered, but even Garth's enhanced vision is struggling in the complete and total darkness of the room aside from the patch of moonlight around the window, around them. 

Roy chews on his lip again and stares out of the window. Garth carefully reaches down to rest his fingers on Roy's exposed ankle, propped on the sill. Roy glances up at him, looking so suddenly, _painfully_ young that Garth's heart twists in his chest. Eighteen. 

God, _eighteen_. Garth doesn't need the recap to remember the then. The messy missions, the rehab, the relapses, the long, long nights he spent with Roy at his request, and all while dating - or a _fling_ , or whatever it was, with - Cheshire, and. 

He can see every detail of it drawn out in Roy's face. He rubs a slow circle into Roy's ankle bone and watches Roy gaze out the window. 

"It was my first time," Roy whispers, so suddenly and quietly Garth isn't sure if he was supposed to hear it. 

"It wasn't - it wasn't her fault," he continues, and scratches at the windowsill. "Her birth control failed. She - didn't want an abortion. But I had no idea until - " 

"It's not your fault either," Garth says, equally quietly. "It was an accident." 

"I know." Roy bites out a bitter laugh. "It's just - of _course_ the one time I actually _have_ sex, it - " he huffs. "I don't regret it. Her. I love Lian. I _want_ Lian." 

"But it's unexpected," Garth says gently. He shifts to sit down on the windowsill opposite Roy, scooting his legs up and then lifting them onto his lap. Roy runs a hand through his hair and nods, crosses his ankles over Garth's thigh. 

"It's a big change," Garth adds. Roy nods again, and then his brow abruptly creases. 

"I don't know if I can do it, Garth," he murmurs. "I'm not - I'm not exactly cut out to be a dad. I'm not - I mean, just _look_ at the choices I made." He presses his hands to his face and sucks in a breath, and when he next speaks, his voice is shaky. "First it was the - and then _Cheshire_ , and - " he breaks off with a ragged exhale. Garth runs his hands up to Roy's knees and rubs in gentle circles. 

"Hey, hey," he whispers, _aches_ to do more, to hold Roy to him, to comfort him - 

Screw it. Garth's never been shy with physical contact before and he's not starting now. He scoots along and wraps an arm around Roy's shoulders to tug him in against his body. Roy slides his legs off of the sill and ducks to bury his face into Garth's neck, his hands appearing at the hem of his shirt. He's not crying, not yet, but his breathing is still choppy and uneven. Garth smooths a hand down his back. 

"You'll be a great dad," Garth says. "You _are_ a great dad." 

"She deserves better," Roy mutters. He sniffles and inhales, exhales, inhales - exhales a lot more smoothly. "I'll fuck it up." 

"You won't," Garth says sternly. "You won't fuck it up, Roy." He takes one of Roy's hands in his own. "And you always have us to help." 

"How do you know," Roy asks. He sighs with a shudder. "I still get cravings, Garth. What if - " 

"What if nothing," Garth says. He squeezes Roy's knuckles. "Roy, you're - " his voice falters on what to say next. There's so much he could fit in there, so much he wants to say but _can't_ , everything between _perfect_ and _everything I ever wanted_. 

When Garth doesn't speak for a while, Roy lifts his head from his shoulder to look him in the eye. Garth's breath stutters on its exhale. 

"I'm what?" Roy asks, quiet and soft and unassuming except for the way his eyes hold Garth's, heavy, expectant, like he knows all the secret, hidden words clogged in Garth's throat. 

"You're amazing," Garth breathes. Their noses bump when he inhales. "You're - " he doesn't know how to vocalise it, how to say that Roy pulls off more as a human than the rest of them do as metas, that he's still playing in the big leagues, that he can hold his own against villains of a thousand different breeds with a thousand different powers and he still comes out on _top_. 

"You're human," Garth settles on, "and you're one of the best vigilantes I've ever seen." He cracks a smile, just to get Roy to mirror it. "I haven't been that impressed with a human since I met Lois." 

Roy swallows. "That's the problem," he murmurs. His gaze flicks away and back. "I'm human." His fingers curl around Garth's palm. "I make so many goddamn mistakes." 

"All of us do." 

"I fuck up a lot, Garth," he says. Then, softer, "I still want things I can't have." His breath drifts over Garth's lips. If he leans in another inch he could kiss him. He could do everything he's ever dreamt of. 

Garth's heart leaps into his throat. It doesn't budge when he swallows. 

"Who said you can't have it?" He whispers. 

The moonlight casts Roy's eyes in a dim, slate-grey-green, like silty water before the sun rises. His fingers are twined tightly with Garth's, and his shoulder is warm even through both their shirts, and there's no one else in the room. No obligation, no interruption. For once, Garth doesn't think of Atlantis. 

"Garth, I - " Roy licks his lips and swallows thick enough Garth can hear it. 

With a sigh, he withdraws, and cold air rushes in to fill the space in front of Garth's face. 

"You're a good friend," Roy says, and kisses him lightly on the cheek. It doesn't sound like what he wanted to say. Garth tries not to be disappointed, tries not to let his heart come crashing down into his chest, but he can't help the curl of inexplicable misery twisting inside him. 

But Roy doesn't let go of his hand. In fact, he holds _tighter_ , and Garth - Garth can't help the bubble of optimism rising in his chest. Roy squeezes, like he's saying _not now_. _Not yet_. 

Garth understands. Roy's daughter is sleeping in the next room over, and all of their worlds have changed. 

"I try my best," he jokes, and hugs Roy to his side with a quiet laugh. 

* * *

**6\. Philautia**

Atlantis is beautiful when the water's clear. The kingdom itself lays proud over the ocean floor, crawling up the rocky pillars and curling around flowering coral reefs. Garth passes by it all on his way to the royal palace, which is a compact, stately building, more for show than for actual use. 

Still, he finds Arthur and Mera in the throne room - which is less of a room and more of an open court, with a wide, circular marble floor spanning out to meet columns on the edges. The roof is long gone, but Arthur has never commissioned a replacement, so the wildlife swim freely around the stone, darting in and out of cracks and crevasses. 

The royal court isn't around, thankfully, so Garth drifts to a stop in the middle of the court, facing the twin thrones on one edge. 

"My lord," he says, bowing his head, fist to his chest. "My lady." 

"Garth, come now, speak freely," Mera says, floating over to him for a quick embrace. "It's only us." 

Garth squeezes her shoulders and steps back. 

"With respect, I'm not here for conversation," he says, gently extracting himself from the waving tendrils of her hair. She frowns, but floats back to give him space. Arthur drifts up to join her, his trident left at the throne. 

"I need to speak with you about something," Garth continues. He clears his throat. It feels strange underwater. 

"Anything, you know that," Arthur replies. He gestures for Garth to speak, and to speak freely. 

Garth twists his hands together and glances at the grand ivory columns surrounding the court. Crumbling at their tips, but standing strong, as they have for hundreds of years, over a kingdom that Garth is expected to rule someday. 

"I know I have responsibilities here," he starts with, turning his gaze to Arthur and Mera. "Duties. Obligations." He forces his hands to his sides. "To rule, when the time comes." 

"Yes," Mera agrees. Garth bites his tongue, then decides against it. 

"I want to focus more on my surface work," he says. Arthur's and Mera's expressions morph into delicate confusion. 

"On the Titans," Garth adds. "On Earth. I want to spend more time up there." 

"Garth," Arthur says, pushing closer. "You are the prince of Atlantis. You - We were _expecting_ \- " 

"We were hoping you'd follow in Arthur's footsteps," Mera interrupts gently. "It's what we trained you for." 

"I don't want to," Garth insists. Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder. 

"Garth, I understand the allures of the surface," he says. "I understand, trust me. But Atlantis is a whole _civilisation_. It - " 

"With all due respect, you don't understand," Garth says, knocking Arthur's hand away. Because Arthur's kind, and he does understand, to some degree, but he doesn't understand _Garth's_ side. 

"You grew up on land," Garth says. "And you learnt of Atlantis, and you _chose_ to stay here." He gestures to Mera. "You _chose_ to marry an Atlantean." He steps back from Arthur, putting more space between them. 

"I didn't choose Atlantis," he continues. "I was thrust into it." 

"Garth - " 

"You _choose_ to spend your time down here, Arthur," Garth bites out. "You learnt of your birthright and you rightfully took back the throne, and you decided to stay, but that's not - " he hesitates, then frowns, "that's not what I want." 

"Then what do you want?" Mera asks. Always the calm of Arthur's storms. 

"I want to focus on the Titans," Garth replies. "I am still attached to Atlantis, but..." 

"But?" 

"But I spend too much time away from my friends." From Roy. From - "I do not wish to give up all my responsibilities down here. Just to lessen them." 

Mera lays a hand on Arthur's arm. He considers Garth with a long, steely look. It gentles a moment later. 

"I want you to know, I did not choose out of frivolity," Arthur says. "I weighed my decision very carefully." 

"But your decision doesn't mean you have to spend _months_ away from the person you - " Garth breaks it off before he can say anything incriminating, but his gaze flicks to Mera, and he can pinpoint the moment they piece it together, all of his odd behaviour and his desire to be on the surface and - 

If Arthur can defy worlds to have his happy ending, then Garth doesn't see why he can't follow in his footsteps in _that_ manner, at least. 

"Oh, _Garth_." Mera reaches for him, but Garth takes a step backwards. 

"Just - let me know your decision," he says, jaw tensed. "If you decide my duties down here are more important, then so be it." 

But before he can leave, Arthur grabs his arm. 

"Who would you have as the prince instead?" He asks. Garth fixes him with a determined stare. 

"Kaldur," he states. "He's more than qualified. But I should ask him first, if I were you." 

To his surprise, Arthur nods. 

"Then it shall be done," he declares. "If he accepts, I shall nominate both of you as my heirs." 

Garth's eyes widen at the news. "Arthur - " 

"Garth." Arthur drops down so his feet touch the marble floor. His expression turns from commanding to gentle. Fond. Paternal, if Garth were to label it such. 

"I know my choice was easy," Arthur continues. "I would follow Mera anywhere she went. And I can - understand that your decision was not nearly as independent." He squeezes Garth's arm. "But I want you to be happy." He pauses, then, "would you be? On land?" 

Garth doesn't even need to think about it. 

"Yes." 

Arthur nods, once. 

"Then go," he instructs. "I shall consult with the court and contact you with an updated list of responsibilities." 

Garth dips his head. "Thank you." Fist on chest. "My lord, lady." 

"How many times have I told you to knock that off?" Arthur laughs. "Now go, get up there." 

\-- 

Garth finds Roy sitting on the rocks of the beach behind the Tower. The sand stretches out before them in a perfect, uninterrupted stretch before disappearing underneath the gentle, lapping waves. Roy's bare feet and ankles are covered in sand, with his jeans rolled up to his knees. Garth sits down quietly beside him, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the rock. It's only a few feet up from the sandy ground below, but high enough that his shoes don't brush anything. 

"Dick just took Lian in for dinner," Roy says, shading his eyes with his hand to look out at the ocean. There's a sand-dusted toy bucket and spade sitting beside him, and the remnants of a sandcastle getting eaten by the waves. "I swear, I gotta keep an eye on him. I think he's more excited about Lian than _I_ am, and she's been with me for months." 

"It's his big brother instinct," Garth comments absently. "You remember how protective he got over Damian when he first joined their family." 

"Yep, and now little Dami never gives him a moment of peace." Roy flashes him a smile. "What brings you out here?" 

The sun dips lowers to the horizon. In a few minutes, it'll become a glorious, beautiful sunset, and then it'll fade into a hopefully peaceful night. This close to the tides, Garth's fingertips tingle with latent magic. 

"I wanted to talk to you," he says. Roy hums and continues studying the ocean. Garth looks down at his hands in his lap. 

"I - miss a lot," he starts. "When I'm in Atlantis." 

"You don't miss that mu - " 

"I don't want to miss any more." Garth pronounces each word carefully, fully enunciated and balanced on the tip of his tongue and dropped between them to crash into the space like the tides before them. "I asked Arthur to - reduce my obligations in Atlantis." 

Roy stays silent. Garth blows out a careful breath through his nose and traces nonsense magical runes on his palm. 

"I missed a lot," he repeats, quieter. "Rehab. Missions. The split." He swallows. "Lian." 

He thinks of Donna's words. _Taking care of your own happiness_. _Happiness vs. selfishness_. 

"I didn't want to tie you down to someone who spent half his time underwater," Garth says. It's pointed, it's deliberate, and it's the first time either of them have acknowledged this... _thing_ between them. "That would be - selfish of me." 

He thinks of Arthur's words. _I want you to be happy_. 

"But I - " the words dry up on his tongue. Shrivel up and flake like ash into the brisk ocean breeze. He swallows and his throat feels as dry as it did in the medbay all those years ago. 

"I've arranged to spend more of my time on the surface," he says quietly. Breathes in....out. In...out. 

He thinks of Dick, of Wally, of Donna, of Lilith, of Roy. Of _philia_ , _agape_ , _eros_ (embarrassingly), _storge_ , _xenia_. _Philautia_. 

"I care about you, Roy," he murmurs. "A lot." 

Roy does look at him then, only a glance, but it soothes Garth's nerves with just a hint of a smile. But nothing happens yet. A hand lays over his on his lap, and Roy clears his throat. 

"Okay, now it's my turn," he says. He sighs. "I kept - running into bad timing." He scrubs a hand through his hair. "First I was too messed up, then I got my head on right and then...and then I didn't want you to think it was just _sex_ , or anything like that, and I didn't want our first kiss to be on a sweaty fucking gym mat with my stupid boner pressing against your ass, I wanted to ask you out and everything first and then - " he lets out a heavy breath, " - and then you went to Atlantis, and I didn't have another chance for a while." 

Garth tangles their fingers together. Roy squeezes them. 

"And when Lian came into the picture, I just - I didn't want to make another big change so quickly." Roy rubs his jaw with his free hand. "I wasn't lying when I said I wanted things I can't have." A pause. "I wanted it for _years_." 

"So did I," Garth admits. "But I didn't want to leave you hanging whenever I disappeared for months at a time." 

Roy huffs. "And I didn't want to drag you into my personal fucked-up shit." He grins at Garth. "What a pair we are, huh?" 

Garth snorts a laugh. Roy watches the waves with him for a minute. Two. 

"So if I'm sticking around surface-side more often," Garth starts. 

"Lian's all settled in at school," Roy says nonchalantly. "I've even toddler-proofed the apartment." 

"Then?" 

Roy turns to him. His smile makes Garth's heart flip-flop in his chest. 

"Then I think we finally got our chance," he says. "Can I _finally_ kiss you?" 

Garth doesn't reply with words, but his palms burn with emotion, with sentiment, and the waves crash harder against the shore, and Roy does indeed break the kiss with a giddy, elated giggle and Garth kisses that, too, kisses the curve of his smile and his cheek and everything he's dreamt of for years. 

He knows how to say _I love you_ in three different languages, from ancient Greek to Atlantean runes to modern English, and every single one fails him. 

He thinks Roy understands, anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over at [halifax-jordan](https://halifax-jordan.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
